


Brambles, Pies and Buttons

by octopus_fool



Series: The Blackberry Tales [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Infidelity, F/F, F/M, Family, Growing Up, Heartbreak, Homophobia, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-09
Packaged: 2017-12-13 20:03:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octopus_fool/pseuds/octopus_fool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo grows up in a perfectly ordinary hobbit family. The only thing that makes his childhood remarkable is the dwarf that shows up on their doorstep every summer.<br/>Throughout the years, Bilbo's perspective on the relationship between his mother and her friend Dís changes.</p><p>Follows Bilbo from his childhood through his tweens right up to the adventure that will change his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Dwarf on the Doorstep

**Author's Note:**

> This will eventually be the second part of a three part series, but it can stand on its own. The first part will focus on Belladonna and Dís meeting and how their relationship develops, while the much shorter third part starts where this story ends off.
> 
> I have tried to stay as close to canon facts as possible, but there are some instances where I moved a hobbit to a different town or changed other small details. I handwaved the distances between the different towns and villages of the Shire since the story (especially in the prequel) would not work if they were as far apart as they are in canon.  
> In short, nothing that will bother anyone unless they are an extreme stickler for canon. ; )

The first time the dwarf had showed up, Bilbo had toddled to open the door and looked up at the strange person that seemed impossibly tall to the fauntling, even taller than his Took uncles. The stranger had shining beads braided into the dark hair and a long beard. The clothes looked strange, dark and worn and the feet were covered with leather instead of curls.

Bilbo stared, and the dwarf stared back. Then Mother had appeared from the kitchen. She froze when she saw the dwarf. “Dís?”

The dwarf smiled and went over to hug Mother. Mother smacked the dwarf.  
There was a good deal of yelling from Mother as well. The dwarf seemed to explain something and Grandma Adamanta’s name fell a few times before Mother started crying. Finally, she did allow the dwarf to pull her into a hug.

They sat down in the kitchen for tea and talked some more while Bilbo sat on the rug and played with the colourful wooden blocks his father had made him. Occasionally, the conversation became louder, and finally, both Mother and the dwarf were crying again, before the dwarf left.

Mother picked Bilbo up and pulled him close, still sniffling softly while pressing kisses into his hair.

That evening, when Father came home, there were more shouts. Dinner was silent as both of his parents sat there with red-rimmed eyes.

 

A few days later, the dwarf came back, this time for elevensies with a fresh rhubarb pie in her hands. This time, there were no hugs and no tears.  
As Mother made tea and Father took plates and forks from the cupboard, the dwarf crouched down next to Bilbo where he was playing with his blocks.

“I don’t think we were properly introduced last time. I’m Dís.”

“You made Mother cry.”

“And I’m very sorry for that. You know, sometimes friends hurt each other without meaning to. If you like, and your parents agree, you can help me pick some flowers for your mother after elevensies to help me apologise properly. Would you like that?”

Bilbo thought about it for a moment and then nodded eagerly. “I know where the most pretty flowers grow.”

Dís ruffled his hair. “That would be great, little button.”

 

Elevensies was much like when Widow Smallburrow visited. The pie was tasty, but the conversations of the grown-ups were polite and boring.

When all the pie was gone but nobody showed any sign of making things interesting, Bilbo got impatient.  
“Piggyback ride, Uncle Dís!” he demanded. Mother and the dwarf laughed and even Father smiled.

Bilbo was lifted onto strong shoulders and they raced around the garden. Bilbo screamed with delight.  
“Giddy up, Uncle Dís! Faster! To the brambles, to fight the bandits!”

And Dís raced all around the garden, until Bilbo was lifted down onto the ground beside the blackberry brambles at the back of the garden and tickled until he begged for mercy. The dwarf relented and they went to pick some flowers in the party field. At Dís’ suggestion, they also presented Father with a handful of flowers, not just Mother.

 

Mother later explained that he should call the dwarf Auntie Dís, but Bilbo simply giggled and climbed onto the dwarf’s lap. “Hello, Uncle Dís!”

Mother shook her head and Dís only laughed. It was only much later that Bilbo realised that since Dís was a dwarf, the beard didn’t have to mean she was male. 

 

Bilbo was delighted that Dís showed up for boring elevensies conversations quite often and always played with him afterwards.

 

When summer ended, Dís came by and explained to Bilbo that she was going home to her own two boys who had spent the summer with their uncle. She spun Bilbo around, made him promise to be good to his mother and hugged him goodbye. 

Then Dís pulled Mother into a hug for the first time since that first afternoon. 

“You really will come back next summer?”

“I promise.”

When they pulled apart after a long time, their eyes were red and their faces wet. He and Mother waved until Dís rounded the corner at the bottom of the hill.

 

Indeed, Dís’ visits to the Shire became a regular thing. At the beginning of summer, there would be a knock on the door one evening. There on the doorstep would be a familiar form, laughing as she spun Bilbo around, ruffled his hair and called him her little button. Then Dís pulled his mother into a tight hug before bowing to Bilbo’s father, who always hung back in one of the doors to the hall, his smile never quite reaching his eyes. 

Mother would throw an impromptu feast. They gorged themselves on cheeses and sausages, cakes and tarts and fruit and the adults drank mugs of ale and the special blackberry wine Mother kept for when Dís visited. Dís and Mother laughed and told stories of what they had experienced during the year. Later, after Bilbo had been put to bed, they sang late into the night, often loud enough that Bilbo could hear plenty of rude words. 

The day after that, Dís would set up the forge in Bywater as Bilbo and his mother watched. Dís always explained the different tools and what they were used for. Soon after that, the customers would come streaming in.

When the first rush of customers was over, Dís sometimes took a day off. Mother packed a basket with lunch and they went walking through the green meadows and the shady forests, laughing and singing. Bilbo took note that the songs were not quite as rude as when they thought he wasn’t listening.  
Mother taught Bilbo which herbs and berries were tasty, while Dís showed him how to identify different kinds of mushrooms and shoot at squirrels with a slingshot when he was a bit older. On these trips, Bilbo learnt how to climb trees properly.

When they found a pleasant spot, Mother carefully spread a blanket on the ground. Dís always teased her saying that a few grass stains wouldn’t kill them, but Mother protested that she didn’t want to sit in ants and remained stubborn. Mother set out food while Bilbo and Dís explored the surroundings, jumping over stones and brambles. Afterwards, they tucked into the sandwiches and scones topped with clotted cream and the berries they had found that day.

Often, they dozed in the sun for a while or Dís braided Mother’s hair, keeping it in place with Mother's favourite silver clasp. It was never long before Bilbo jumped into Dís’ lap and demanded she braid his hair as well. 

They never headed home before the sun was already rapidly sinking towards the western horizon. 

 

On other days, Dís came over for elevensies and told them about the strange things some of her customers at the forge requested. Bilbo’s mother seemed endlessly amused that Dís seemed to take an interest in the Shire gossip as well. The conversations were usually loud and full of laughter, and no longer as polite as during the first summer. 

Father said little during these visits, often bustling around the smial fixing and improving things. Sometimes, he excused himself before elevensies to go talk to Hob Gammidge when he was staying with his cousin down the road for summer.

As Bilbo grew older, he sometimes went to visit Dís in her forge on his own. He watched as she repaired pots and pans or produced new forks and spoons.  
Dís occasionally let him refill the water bucket she cooled the metal in or do other little tasks while he chattered to her about how he hoped to see elves like his mother had said she had met while adventuring. 

 

Usually, when Bilbo ran into Dís he greeted her happily, showed her the scratches he had got from climbing through brambles and talked about the birds and flowers he had seen that day and the mud cakes he wanted to bake. Occasionally, he was not quite so glad to see her.

Bilbo and Daisy Burrows had climbed into Gorbulas Proudfoot’s cherrytree, planning to nick a few of the bright red cherries. Somehow that had quickly escalated into an eating contest and before long, both of them were gulping down all the cherries they could reach, regardless whether they were ripe or not, not even bothering to spit out the pits anymore. 

Neither of them noticed Dís coming down the path and before they knew it, she had plucked both of them from the tree and was glaring at them disapprovingly. 

Dís marched Daisy home, where she handed her over to her mother before taking Bilbo back to Bag End. 

It was only when Dís was pounding on the door that Bilbo miserably remembered. “They went to Overhill to visit Marigold Rumble and her newborn son today.”

“Then I’ll wait here with you until they return.” Dís said with another glare and led him inside.

In the end, Dís told him stories while he lay in bed clutching his aching stomach. She stroked his back when the cherry pits clanked and splattered into the tin bucket and sang him to sleep afterwards. 

When Bilbo’s parents finally returned, they unanimously decided he had had his punishment.

 

One day, Bilbo told Dís how two of the Sandyman boys as well as Ned Twofoot and Basso Noakes had pinned him to the ground while he was winding flower chains with Daisy and had slapped him until his nose bled.

“And all because I skipped a pebble further across the pond than Mat Sandyman the day before!”

“Did you tell your parents about this?” Dís asked.

“Father said he’d talk to their parents and Mother said I should stay away from them. Much good that’ll do!”

Dís hesitated a bit before she held the pair of scissors she was working on into the water, where it hissed. She put it on her workbench and pulled Bilbo out of the forge and around the house towards the soft grass that would cushion a fall.

“You probably shouldn’t tell your parents I taught you this, little button. And never use it on anyone who isn’t threatening or hurting you.”

Within a month, Mat Sandyman sported a black eye and nobody bothered Bilbo anymore.


	2. As Grass Grows

The older Bilbo got, the more he noticed how his father changed when Dís was around. 

In autumn, Bilbo and his father made kites and let them fly on the empty fields and hills. The entire family went for long walks on which they collected acorns and chestnuts. They later used them to build hobbits, men, orcs and dragons they pitched against each other in fights.

In winter, Father made sure Bilbo had enough books to read. They wrestled on the rugs, built blanket forts and listened to Mother’s stories about her adventures. 

Springtime brought fairs and parties Father took Mother and Bilbo to. Bilbo laughed as his father tripped and stumbled as he tried to catch butterflies for his collection. Father even wove him flower garlands to wear to the spring festival.  
Only when the end of spring approached did Father’s mood deteriorate. Mother puttered around the smial, cleaning things and humming to herself, while Father stared at one of his books, never turning a page. After Dís arrived, Bilbo rarely saw his father and if he did, Father was tight-lipped and unsmiling. 

Mother, on the other hand, thrived when Dís was there. Her smiles were bigger than ever and there was even more of a bounce in her step than usual. Only occasionally did he see a sort of soft wistfulness in her eyes after Dís went back to the forge. He usually barely noticed between all the songs and laughter.

When summer and Dís left, it was Mother who was barely recognisable and spent long hours staring out of the window.  
Father, on the other hand, returned to being his usual self. He went to great lengths to cheer Mother up and persuaded her to go on walks through the forest with its leaves slowly turning to gold and red. There were loving little gestures, breakfasts in bed and gentle hugs. 

Usually, by the time Bilbo’s birthday came around, both his parents were back to normal. At least until summer began. Bilbo did not want to spend too much time wondering why. 

 

In the summer of his eighteenth year, Dís gave Bilbo the most beautiful carving knife he had ever seen. She taught him how to choose the right wood for a project and how to carve the wood without harming his fingers. Wood shavings followed him everywhere that summer.  
He carved candle stands for his father, napkin holders for his mother and countless toy animals, to the great delight of his younger cousins and the children of the village. 

He was sitting on the picnic blanket carving an oliphaunt for his aunt Mirabella’s oldest son, Rorimac, while Dís braided Mother’s hair, gently teasing about the strands of grey starting to mingle with the light brown. Dís cast a glance over at the oliphaunt taking shape in Bilbo’s hands.

“You’re getting really good. I reckon you could almost take it up with the toy carvers of my folk.”

“Are many dwarves toy carvers?” Bilbo asked, surprised. “I thought most dwarves preferred working with metal.”

“Well, most do, but carving wooden toys makes for a good additional income, especially in exile.”

Bilbo was eager to hear more about dwarves since, aside from teaching Bilbo their runes, Dís rarely said anything about her people. However, Dís had already moved on to other topics.

“There you go, Belna dear. All braided so that nobody will see that beautiful silver you so desperately want to hide.” 

Mother stuck out her tongue at Dís, who laughed. Bilbo was sure the brush of Dís’ hand against Mother’s ear when she tucked a single blackberry flower into the braid was entirely accidental.

“Do you want me to braid your hair as well, Bilbo?” Dís asked.

“Melba Banks says it looks silly,” Bilbo mumbled.

“Aha! I told you, Belna, not long now before he’s in his tweens.”

Mother groaned. “And I’m sure you’ll be teaching him nonsense all along the way and making sure he becomes a heart-breaker.”

“Isn’t that my responsibility as his favourite auntie?”

Bilbo was sure his face matched the raspberries they had eaten earlier. “I’m not going to do any of the disgusting things tweens do. They are ridiculous,” He said indignantly.

 

Two summers later, there wasn’t much left of this opinion. Bilbo was already bright red when he slunk into the forge.

“Can you help me with something, Auntie Dís?” he mumbled.

“Of course. What is it?” 

“I have this carved piece of wood that I’d like to make into a brooch, but I don’t quite know how.”

The grin on Dís face told him he had been caught.

“So, who is the lucky one?”

“Who says there’s anyone?”

“Oh, come on. You tell me the name and I help you: that’s the deal. And don’t tell me the brooch is for your dear Aunt Donnamira. So who is the lucky lass or lad?”

“Robinia Grubb.”

“Now that’s better. Have you kissed her yet?”

Bilbo shook his head.

“Ah, so you want to give her this when you ask her to the midsummer dance and hope that will get you there.”

Bilbo blushed even more.

“Well, then let me see that carving and hand me that wire over there and we’ll see what we can do.”

 

As it turned out, carved brooches worked quite well and Robinia not only promised to come to the dance with Bilbo but also gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

However, when he came home that evening, Bilbo was pulled into the pantry by his father.  
“Dís told me you were... starting to take an interest and she thought it would be more comfortable for you if I were the one to talk to you about this.”

Bilbo took a moment to be both surprised and relieved that Dís had directly talked to Father about this rather than take the detour and tell Mother first. Both feelings were however overshadowed by his immense embarrassment.

“I’m not sure she’s right,” Father said wryly. “Dear me, I remember being given the talk by my father, and I’m sure there is no way to make that even more embarrassing then it already is, so let’s just get it over with for both our sakes.”

Bilbo nodded weakly and tried to mute the screaming in his head as his father told him how to avoid planting pumpkins in a lass before even coming of age.

 

As it turned out, they had been worrying for nothing. At the midsummer dance, Robinia pulled him behind a tree and tangled her tongue with his, which was both the strangest thing Bilbo had ever felt and not exactly pleasant. 

What they should have realised was that the trunk of a tree was not an ideal hiding place. The sound Bilbo made when they were found was entirely undignified, as was his mother’s giggle. Needless to say, the mood was broken and both tweens slunk off in opposite directions.

Bilbo did see Robinia again later. She didn’t seem to realise that the behind the food tent wasn’t really a better hiding place than leaning against a tree trunk. At least, this time she was the one to make an undignified sound as she pulled away from his cousin Sigismond Took.

Bilbo didn’t have much time to be disappointed, since Peony Smallburrow pulled him aside the following week. She turned out to be a much better kisser, so they repeated that a couple of times over the next month or so. Afterwards, there was Semolina Hayward and then Gloriana Whitfoot.

 

It was clear what one of the first things Dís would ask him when he came to her forge alone the following summer was. And sure enough, his favourite, albeit nosiest, aunt did not disappoint.

“So do you have a special lass or lad at the moment?”

“No, not really. And Mother says I should stay away from the lads.”

“Does she now. Why’s that?”

“Apparently, it wouldn’t be seen as proper, especially not for a Baggins. She thinks it would only lead to heartbreak and that I’d better just stay away, even if others say it’s alright as long as you’re still in your tweens.”

Bilbo didn’t think he had ever seen Dís look so sad before. “And what do you think?” 

Seredec Lightfoot’s smile and the way his muscles moved when he threw hay onto a wagon flashed through Bilbo’s mind for a moment.  
He shrugged. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint my parents. And lasses are nice enough.”

 

That midsummer’s dance, Bilbo danced with five different girls and kissed three of them. His mother wanted him to ask Daisy to dance as well.

“She’s such a nice girl, and she’s looking at you. Surely, one dance can’t hurt.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why not? She’s a caring, lovely person.”

“I know, I wouldn’t be friends with her otherwise, but I’m just not interested.”

Bilbo was grateful he was pulled into the dancing crowd again.


	3. Winter and Willows

That winter was one to remember. There was more snow than Bilbo ever remembered seeing. The air was freezing and the pond was solid ice. Soon the children stopped building snowmen and snowforts for their snowball fights and preferred to stay inside where it was warm instead.

Then came the first messages about orcs on the far side of the Brandywine. Father immediately packed their cart full of supplies, boarded up the smial and they hurried towards the safety of the Great Smials of Tuckborough as fast as the frozen roads allowed. 

Bilbo had always thought the Great Smials were crowded in summer. Now, almost every hobbit with Took blood in them seemed to have sought the safety of their ancestral home. It was overfilled, loud and cheerful. Fauntlings crawled underneath the tables and packs of children chased from room to room while their mothers scolded. The only place that seemed to be fairly quiet was the sitting room of his grandfather, the Old Took, already over 120 years old.

Cooking smells drifted from the kitchens, where his Grandma Adamanta, ancient as well, sat on her armchair and commanded a small army of hobbits at the pots. Bilbo’s mother often helped out as well, but did not say one word to Grandma Adamanta. She had not spoken to her for almost as long as Bilbo could remember. Bilbo still hadn’t found out what had happened between them and he was quite certain he didn’t want to ask her for details. Perhaps he’d ask Aunt Donnamira or Aunt Mirabella one day.

The men organised the defence. Bilbo’s uncle Isembard led a group of hobbits towards the Brandywine to help defend the Shire, while Isengrim, the Old Took’s heir, stayed behind with enough men to defend Tuckborough.

At night, every flat surface available was turned into sleeping space. Bedrolls were spread across the kitchen floors and on tables. Two or three hobbits shared each bed. Bilbo soon realised that the nights were not much quieter than the days. Snores echoed through the rooms as did the giggling of tweens and the grunts and moans of couples. 

Bilbo twisted and turned underneath his blanket, his hormones not making the sounds any easier to bear. 

“Shh...” whispered Bercilac, who was sharing his bed with Bilbo. He shifted and Bilbo felt his groin pressed against Bercilac’s. 

“Alright?” 

Bilbo nodded and they ground against each other until they found release.

Neither of them ever spoke of it. They were both in their tweens and it was only to find relief, so there was no need to fear disappointing his mother or getting his heart broken. They weren’t closely enough related to feel shame either, though Bilbo couldn’t exactly say if they were second, third or fourth cousins. As it was, they found relief together when they needed it and Bilbo couldn’t quite keep himself from wondering.

In early March, the news finally came that the orcs and wargs had been beaten back and no more seemed to be coming. 

Still, Bilbo’s family only left at the beginning of April, when the melting snow made the brooks and rivers swell and roar. Bilbo was relieved to finally have some quiet and space for himself again. 

 

That year, Dís did not arrive at the beginning of summer. When the second week of summer had passed without any sign of her, Bilbo’s mother began getting anxious. She jumped up faster than ever every time there was a knock at the door. She sat on the front bench, watching the road, sometimes she went on long walks leading along the westward road. She never said anything about it. 

If Mother’s anxiety was hard to watch, Father’s face was even more frightening. It seemed to switch from worry to hope, then to guilt and he began to take all the measures to make his wife happier as he usually did in autumn.

Bilbo very determinedly did not think about it. 

Instead, he spent as little time as possible at home. The summer seemed to try to make up for the winter, it was warm, sunny and pleasant, perfect weather for splashing about the creek with his friends.  
Bilbo was kissing more lasses than he cared to count. He knew he was gaining quite a reputation; people were talking about his adventurous Took side showing. He grinned and let them talk. Adventures were nothing to be ashamed of. 

Perhaps his adventurous side really was running wild, because when Milo Cotton pulled him towards the weeping willows next to the place all the tweens went swimming, Bilbo went along. 

The kiss itself wasn’t too different from one with a lass, perhaps slightly more demanding. The callused hands on his face and in his hair as well as the muscular body flush against his were an entirely different matter however. When they pulled apart flushed and breathless, Bilbo needed a moment to compose himself before rejoining his friends.

The following morning, he woke up with sticky sheets. 

 

Dís finally arrived in early July and Mother nearly cried with relief. She clung to the dwarf as Dís apologised profoundly.

“I would have come earlier. I didn’t mean to make you worry. I wanted to make sure you were alright as soon as possible, but that stubborn, block-headed son of granite who calls himself my brother insisted I stay until the danger of running into orcs, wargs and white wolves had passed completely! As if I didn’t know how to protect myself against a few orcs!”

Dís patted the axe hanging at her side and when Bilbo looked past her, he saw her pony still laden with her pack. He realised that she must have rushed to Bag End without even dropping her things off at the forge.  
Father seemed to realise the same thing and offered to lead the pony down to Bywater, put her things in the small house by the forge and settle the pony into the stable. 

Bilbo did not want to see Father’s face as he walked out the door. He did not want to see the way Mother and Dís barely took note of Father or of Bilbo. Instead, he set the table, began baking a pie and got the food from the pantry. 

That evening, all four of them got spectacularly drunk on blackberry wine. Bilbo and his father retired early. 

 

The forge went exceptionally well that summer. Quite a few ancestral swords had seen use that Fell Winter, as it was starting to be called, and needed to be touched up. Several hobbits also commissioned new swords in order to be prepared, should such a winter ever occur again. That, in addition to the usual work and her late arrival, had Dís working constantly. 

Dís asked Bilbo if he would like to help at the forge with some of the easier work and soon, Bilbo spent his mornings sharpening knives and swords, hammering dents out of pots and pans, winding wire onto a spool and making nails.

The afternoons and evenings were still spent with his friends. Bilbo stayed away from Milo Cotton.

He found himself trading kisses with Peony Smallburrow more often than with the other lasses and before long, she was the one he went to all the dances with. 

One evening, they found themselves in a small forest clearing not far from Hobbiton and kissing progressed into hurried fumbling with drawstrings of breeches and a crumpled dress. After a quick relocation because ants should really not factor into that and some awkward attempts to find the right angle, it was over much too soon. Still, it was not altogether unpleasant and the summer saw several repetitions. They made sure not to plant any pumpkins.

Peony even came over for tea a few times. Mother was thrilled, Father pleased and Dís, when she was there, did her best to embarrass Bilbo.  
It still ended before the first snow fell.


	4. Hay and Adventures

Bilbo kissed a few different lasses but he did not try for anything more permanent. By the time summer arrived, Mother was nudging him towards Daisy again.

“I’ve told you before, Mother. I’m not interested in her.”

“But you got along so nicely when you were younger.”

“Yes, and we still do. As friends.”

“It would be such a shame if you broke her heart.”

“I’m doing nothing to encourage her and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t either. And now excuse me, I promised to help Dís at the forge.”

Bilbo may have hammered out the dents in Widow Goodburrow’s favourite pot a bit more vigorously than strictly necessary because Dís took notice.

“What has that poor pot done to you?”

“Nothing.”

“So what happened then?”

“I just got in a small disagreement with Mother. Nothing more to say about it, really.”

Dís seemed to understand that that particular conversation was over.

 

The hay harvest was the following week and most of the hobbits pitched in, cutting the grass, turning it, raking it together, binding it and tossing it onto the wagons. The sun glared down on them and the dust gathered on their sticky skin. 

Still, it was cheerful work and they sang loudly. More often than not, Bilbo found himself working beside Seredec Lightfoot and laughing at his jokes. They asked each other riddles and in the evenings, when the hobbits jumped into the Water to wash of the grime of the day, they dunked each other under laughing and sputtering. 

Bilbo walked to the meadows in eager anticipation each morning and in the evenings barely felt how weary his arms and legs were from the hard work.

He dreaded the end of the hay harvest, but somehow, he and Seredec found excuses to spend at least a few minutes together every day. Bilbo knew he would have to make a decision soon.

 

One day, Bilbo sought his father out on one of his walks to the Waymoot market. They walked beside each other in silence for a while.

“When did you realise you liked Mother like that? I don’t think you’ve ever talked about how you got together.”

“I think it was at one of the Bywater dances when she was a few years older than you are now. She had ribbons and flowers in her hair and suddenly, she wasn’t just my friend’s little sister anymore. I couldn’t stop looking at her.”

“And did she agree to dance with you?”

Bungo laughed. “I didn’t even ask. She was the thain’s daughter and I felt not even the name Baggins would be grand enough for her.”

“So what happened? Had she secretly been watching you as well?”

“Oh, nothing of the sort!” He snorted. “I’m afraid you’ll have to look elsewhere if you are looking for some grand romantic story. You know I was friends with your uncle Isembard and I was on friendly enough terms with her, but she didn’t really notice me for several more years. I stuck with her when things weren’t so good and she needed a friend. Sometimes I wonder if she chose me because I wouldn’t remind her, because I was the safe option but still not the one her mother wanted her to choose.” Father shrugged his shoulders.  
“It doesn’t really matter all that much, in the end. But you aren’t just asking because you want a story, are you? There is someone, isn’t there?”

It was Bilbo’s turn to shrug.

“I’m not really sure. There’s nothing else on my mind anymore, but it would... it wouldn’t be proper. Especially not for a Baggins.”

Bilbo’s father snorted derisively. “Who told you that nonsense? And since when do you care about that kind of thing?”

“I don’t think Mother would approve...”

“Oh. Look, Bilbo, I think she is just worried you might get hurt. Society’s expectations are sometimes hard to live up to and she doesn’t want things to be difficult for you. When it comes down to it, there is no one who would stand behind you as fiercely as your mother. And you do know I pretty much gave up any chance at respectability when I married a Took, so you don’t need to worry about the family name. Go ahead and take a leap, go on an adventure if that’s what you want to call it. I think you know what you want, you just need to let them know.” 

 

That evening, Bilbo walked down to the place at the Water between the alders where Seredec liked to go fishing. In the west, thunderclouds were drawing up but they hadn’t quite reached Hobbiton yet. As Bilbo climbed down the slope, he could see Seredec’s mop of brown curls leaned against the bark of the alder. Bilbo stepped on a twig to announce his coming and Seredec turned to grin at him. He shifted over to make room for Bilbo.

For a while, they sat in silence, looking out over the Water and listening to the thunder slowly becoming louder. Finally, Bilbo gathered his courage and turned Seredec’s face towards him. There was a breathless moment before a soft smile spread across Seredec’s lips and then Bilbo was kissing him as he had never kissed anyone before.

The downpour ended up catching them by surprise after all and by the time they had clambered up the slope again, they were drenched to the bones and laughing. They ran down the path towards Hobbiton and when their ways parted, stopped for yet another long, breathless kiss. 

When Bilbo finally stumbled through the door, his mother emerged from the sitting room and gasped at the sight of her mud-dripping son.

“Gracious! Where have you been off to and why didn’t you take an umbrella if you wanted to go adventuring in that weather? You’re sure to have caught a cold.”

“I went fishing with a few friends and forgot my umbrella.”

She shooed him off to have a warm bath.

Luckily, Bilbo didn’t catch a cold, or he would have missed quite a few glorious kisses over the following days. 

 

His mother still kept mentioning Daisy and sometimes even Peony in her conversations with Bilbo. Bilbo barely even noticed, he was too busy thinking about his next meeting with Seredec. 

 

However, not everyone let it go that easily, as he found out when he returned to the picnic blanket early from gathering mushrooms. He had almost announced his presence by walking into the clearing before he realised Dís and his mother were talking about him. He stopped in silence instead.

“I think you should stop trying to interfere with Bilbo’s relationships, Belna.”

“What do you mean? He doesn’t even have a relationship I could mess with.”

“You know exactly what I mean. I don’t think it’s a good idea to push him together with Daisy.”

“Why not? She’s clearly pining for him and she’s a lovely lass. Bilbo ought to have someone to be happy with.”

“Yes, he should. That’s exactly why you should let him make his own decisions,” Dís tried to reason.

“I’d just rather have him be with somebody who won’t get his heart broken,” Bilbo’s mother replied.

“Because we all know it always works out so well when mothers meddle with their children’s relationships.” 

“What are you saying? Are you implying I’m turning into my mother?” Bilbo’s mother was starting to raise her voice.

“You know what I’m saying.”

“I would never make anyone my son loves leave town!”

“No, you’re simply trying to make sure he never even falls in love with anyone society wouldn’t approve of before it comes to that.”

“I am not having this discussion with you,” Belladonna snapped.

“Fine. So be it. Just try not to ruin your son’s life.”

Dís turned away and marched out of the clearing towards the road back to Bywater.

Bilbo crept back into the forest and waited a while before he returned to the clearing. Belladonna had packed everything up.

“Dís had to leave early. She forgot something at the forge.” 

Bilbo pretended not to notice his mother’s red-rimmed eyes and simply took the picnic basket from her.

 

Dís did not go to see his mother that week. Bilbo watched her swing the hammer with a ferocity she rarely showed. At the end of the week, he had had enough of seeing Dís miserable at the forge and his mother sulk around the smial.

“I don’t want you to fight with my mother on my behalf.”

Dís let out a mirthless laugh. “You heard that, then?”

“Yes. I appreciate your worry, but I know what I want and nothing Mother does will change that. I’ll be fine.”

“That’s good, Bilbo. Don’t let anybody tell you who you should or shouldn’t love,” she ruffled his curls like she hadn’t in a long time.

“I won’t. But you should go talk to her. You know she’s too stubborn to apologise and it’s making me miserable to watch you two unhappy.”

Dís snorted. “I never thought I’d see the day a dwarf is less stubborn than a hobbit.”

Bilbo didn’t know what was said between the two of them, but things returned to normal soon after that.


	5. Gifts and Letters

With that, the last thing shadowing Bilbo’s enjoyment of the summer had disappeared. He spent as much time as he could with Seredec, wandering the fields and forests holding hands and singing. 

In the evenings, he designed a set of buttons for him that he planned to make at the forge.

When there was a dance that his mother didn’t go to, Bilbo and Seredec danced together openly, arms wound tightly about each other’s shoulders. Sometimes they spent long hours kissing with entwined limbs in the darkness close to the dance like many other young couples. Nobody frowned at them, or whispered. They were tweens after all; free to do what they wished. 

Occasionally, Bilbo had to mention to Dís or Bungo that he would prefer if his mother didn’t show up to one event or another. They always gave him a conspiratorial grin and made sure Belladonna was otherwise occupied. 

If there were no dances, Bilbo and Seredec met at their fishing spot down at the Water, lay in the warm sunlight on a meadow or in a woody hollow mostly concealed by brambles between the hills and the Water.

 

It was there that they met one early afternoon as the wind chased a few lone clouds across the sky. Bilbo had read something in one of the many books in Bag End and they had talked about how they wanted to try something other than frantic hands reaching into breeches. A small vial of oil was hidden in one of Bilbo’s pocket and his skin thrummed with anticipation.

Seredec was already waiting at the hollow, smiling at him. Bilbo pulled him in for a long kiss, his hands threading through the brown curls he loved so much. Their clothes soon lay abandoned in the long grass. 

They took their time after that, making sure to explore every bit of exposed skin, no matter how often they had already committed it to their memory. Finally, Bilbo reached for the vial and they began exploring completely new territory. At first there was an occasional bout of awkward laughter when things didn’t go quite as planned, but before long, it changed into smooth movements, gasps and moans. Their movements became frantic and soon they collapsed in a breathless heap of tangled limbs. 

Eventually, they roused themselves from their satisfied haze and wandered over to the Water. They jumped in and let the cool water wash them clean. Afterwards, they sat on the roots of an alder, their feet still dangling into the water and let the sun dry them as their entire world was filled with contentment.

“Same time tomorrow?” Bilbo asked when they finally made their way back to their everyday lives. 

Seredec grinned wolfishly and pulled Bilbo into a last kiss before spinning away towards the path that led him towards his home.

 

Dís was over for tea that afternoon and afterwards, Bilbo and Dís sat on the front bench. Dís smoked her awful dwarvish pipe weed while Bilbo puffed on his Old Toby filled pipe as they chatted about this and that. 

Neither of them was sure what brought it about or how it started. They only gradually became aware of the angry voices drifting from the kitchen window.

“...and what exactly do you think happened? For the Valar’s sake, Bilbo was almost always there!”

“It’s not even about that! Do you think I don’t care how you still look at her, only think about her. I don’t care if something happened or didn’t happen, I care that you seem to have been in this marriage only out of obligation and habit, I don’t even know for how many years. And I just can’t go on like this anymore. I don’t know why I never said anything before...” Bungo’s voice cracked.

“That is not true! You know as well as I do...”

“We shouldn’t be listening to this,” Dís said quietly and pulled Bilbo to his feet. “Didn’t you want to finish that set of buttons?”

They said nothing more as they walked to the forge or as Bilbo filed the rough edges of the buttons for Seredec. He polished them until they gleamed and then some before putting them in a pouch of bright blue silk he had sewn himself. 

The sun had already set and only the last pastel colours hung in the sky when Bilbo finally made his way home, stopping here and there to gaze at a flower or some vegetables that couldn’t really interest him, not that evening.

Belladonna sat at the kitchen table when he came home, staring at her hands.

“He’s gone; staying with Aunt Belba and Uncle Rudigar in Frogmorton. Says you’re welcome to visit.”

Bilbo said nothing and got out the bread and some cheese. They chewed without really tasting anything and didn’t talk. 

When Bilbo got up the next morning, Belladonna was standing in the hall with a letter in her hands. She did not try to conceal the tears running down her cheeks.

“There’s one for you as well,” she said, pointing to the envelope on the windowsill.

He opened it.

_Bilbo,_   
_I am sorry for the chaos I left behind. I should have never come back to the Shire, especially not year after year. I apologise that you were ever pulled into this mess. If you need to put the blame on someone, blame me, not your mother. Try not to judge her too harshly._   
_Most importantly, dare to do what you think is right. Go on your adventure. Don’t let anyone tell you what to do._   
_Dís._

Bilbo read it a second time, then a third. He crumpled it into a ball and threw it into the kitchen stove. He didn’t stay to watch it burn. 

She was right in one point. He would not let anyone tell him what to do, especially not her. And he most certainly would not go on any adventures. He had quite enough of those and had seen where they ended. He would leave the adventures to dwarves and Tooks and whoever else wanted to hurt whoever cared for them. He would be a respectable Baggins, thank you very much.

 

Bilbo spent the day in his room, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. He did not go to the woody hollow. The pouch with the buttons was buried at the very bottom of his sock drawer. 

He did not know what Belladonna did that day, but the following morning, she went to the market as if nothing had happened.

While she was gone, there was a knock at the door. Seredec stood there with a smile on his face and worry in his eyes.

“Is everything alright? You didn’t come to our spot.”

“I can’t do this anymore. It was a mistake.”

“But I thought... Did your mother find out?”

“No. It just isn’t right. It isn’t proper.”

“We’re still in our tweens! Nobody minds, except perhaps your mother. And you always said you didn’t care what anyone thought, even once we grew out of our tweens! This was our adventure and not anybody else’s business.”

“I was wrong. Adventures are a bad idea and dangerous.”

“Are you really saying we are over? That this is it?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, Seredec.” For a moment, Bilbo thought his voice would break, but it stayed even. “I shouldn’t have done this. I am sorry.”

Bilbo closed the door. 

He went to his desk and wrote a few letters to his cousins with little content and less consequence. He read a book and baked a pie. He went on a walk and marked his route in one of his maps. He avoided the gossip he knew was running wild as well as the empty forge.

The following week, he left to visit his aunt’s family and Bungo in Frogmorton for a few days.

 

Bungo returned to Bag End shortly before Yule. The first few weeks were a bit tense. Then Bungo and Belladonna surprised everybody by falling into their old routine, only that they genuinely seemed happy and caring towards each other. Probably no one was as surprised at this as Bungo and Belladonna.

The village speculated if it was all pretence, but Bilbo knew his parents had moved past that. 

They were all a bit apprehensive again during the first summer. Even if none of them said anything and they knew it was unlikely, they all half expected a knock on the door and the familiar shape of a dwarf in their doorway. 

The forge stayed cold that summer. The following summer, a young smith from Michel Delving moved there and married Poppy Headstrong.


	6. A Respectable Baggins of Bag End

A few weeks after Bilbo’s thirty-third birthday, Daisy picked him up from Bag End for one of their usual walks. The sun slowly fought its way through the morning mist and made the golden-red leaves of the maple trees glow.

Bilbo and Daisy talked about the usual inconsequential Shire gossip and how the harvest was going. Finally, as they were approaching Bag End again, Daisy took a deep breath.

“I know it is rather forward to ask this way, but would you like to go to the harvest festival with me? Or for that matter, would you ever be interested in doing anything with me other than go for walks and have tea?”

Bilbo looked at her in surprise. He imagined close dances at the harvest festival, comfortable smiles and kisses in a warm kitchen, tiny hobbit feet running up to him and fauntlings begging to be picked up. He thought of it all for a glorious moment. Then he realised he couldn’t see himself having any of that with Daisy outside fleeting thoughts.

“No, I’m afraid I wouldn’t. I don’t think that is for me.”

“I thought so. I just had to _know_ before I can move on, if that makes any sense. See you for tea on Saturday as usual?”

Bilbo smiled and nodded. “See you then.”

 

Bungo asked him if he wanted to go for his adventuring years as was customary for Tooks. 

“You could go see those elves you always went on about as a child. Or travel with the rangers for a bit.”

“I don’t think so. I sometimes see elves travelling through the Shire in summer. That is enough for me. I’m not really good enough with weapons to go with the rangers. I’d just be a burden.”

“You did well enough when you were training a few years ago.” Bungo didn’t mentioned that Dís had been the one who had given him his first training; none of them said her name anymore.

“That was just with wooden sticks on a meadow, not with real weapons. And I’ve probably already forgotten what little I learned back then.”

“What about Bree, or at least living in a different part of the Shire for a while?”

“I don’t really think so. I’m fine here. I guess the Baggins half finally won out.”

Bungo looked sad. “If you say so. I just hope you don’t regret not going.”

 

Three years later, a fever ran through the Shire. Belladonna was taken to bed and Bungo soon followed her. Bilbo smiled as he saw Belladonna asleep with her hand carded though the single grey lock in Bungo’s dark hair and Bungo’s arm curled around her waist. 

Bilbo kept them warm, brewed them willow bark and chamomile tea and fed them chicken broth as Healer Clayhanger had instructed him.

A week later, he supported Belladonna as they left the family graveyard.

 

Belladonna’s recovery was slow and the walks she went on were much shorter than before. She visited Bungo’s grave almost every day and the flowers she planted on it became the wonder of Hobbiton. 

Daisy married Rollo Cotton and soon had a couple of fauntlings tumbling about her feet. When Bilbo came over to tea on Saturdays, he gave them wooden toys he had made. They adored him.

Sometimes, Bilbo borrowed a cart and pony from the Green Dragon Inn and drove Belladonna to visit her brother Isengrim, who was thain by now, and her other brothers in Tuckborough for a few days. 

They also enjoyed going to Brandy Hall to visit Aunt Mirabella and her family. Rorimac was now in his tweens and was usually off on his own or with his friends but Amaranth, Saradas and Dodinas watched with keen eyes as he taught then to carve. Asphodel, Dinodas and Primula begged him for piggyback rides. They squealed with delight when he complied and raced around carrying them until he was out of breath. Even if he never had children of his own, he could always spoil his cousins. 

On the rides back from their relatives, often when they passed the blackberry brambles between Frogmorton and Bywater, Belladonna sometimes got a distant look in her eyes.

“I keep thinking that I would like to go on another adventure. Taking a look at the sea would be lovely, don’t you think? Or maybe I’d go to the Blue Mountains. I’ve always wanted to go there.”

Bilbo nodded and played along as he named other places from the maps he kept on his desk as possible destinations while he tried to imagine her in a dwarf town.

 

Bilbo was buying apples from the market when he heard the newest piece of village gossip.

“...really quite scandalous. And the Lightfoots are such a respectable family too. It’s a shame that his poor mother has to go through all that.”

“Yes, exactly. I’m not at all surprised about that Ordulas Bunce, but who would have ever thought that young Seredec would go running off to Buckland?”

“They really have all sorts of strange folk down in Buckland too, doing things no proper hobbit would ever dare to even imagine! It is such a scandal!”

Bilbo calmly finished purchasing the apples and then proceeded to buy the vegetables, flour, eggs and the pound of pork that were still on his grocery list. 

At home, he calmly put everything into the pantry before baking an apple pie. Only when the pie was in the oven did he allow himself to go to his room and pull out a pouch of bright blue silk from the bottom of his sock drawer. He stared at the shiny buttons in his hands for a long time before he put them back into their pouch. The pouch went back into the drawer.

 

“Seredec Lightfoot and Ordulas Bunce moved to Buckland,” Bilbo mentioned nonchalantly as he and Belladonna were eating the apple pie for tea.

“Did they? That’s lovely! Folk across the Brandywine were always so much less strict about what they consider to be respectable than around these parts. I’m happy for them.”

Bilbo hoped Belladonna didn’t notice how his hand clenched around his fork.

“The gossips at the market are having quite a day with it.” Bilbo took a sip from his tea cup.

“Oh, they’ll be talking about it for more than a day, no doubt about it! Let them wag their tongues, as long as those two are happy. Are you going to visit them?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You used to be quite close to Seredec, didn’t you? What happened to that?”

Bilbo carefully tried to set down his cup without it clacking against the saucer too much.

“We grew apart.”

“That’s a shame. He seemed like a nice young man.”

Bilbo took another bite of the apple pie and tried to swallow it. It felt like sawdust in his mouth.

“Is there anyone in your life at the moment? It would be nice to have someone else in the smial. I wouldn’t mind coming to visit you in Buckland either, for that matter.”

Now Bilbo really did choke on the pie. 

“No, I’m quite fine with the way things are right now,” he said when he could breathe again. “There’s nothing wrong with being a respectable bachelor of Hobbiton.”

“Of course not. But I am not going to live forever and I’d rather you’d not be lonely.”

 

Bilbo went for a long walk after tea. It did not improve his mood much.

 

Their daily routine continued. They visited relatives, went for walks and to the market. Bilbo read books and Belladonna crocheted doilies as it had become her habit to do since Bungo’s death. She still dreamed of a journey to the Blue Mountains.

 

One day, Belladonna simply did not wake when Bilbo tried to call her to breakfast. Her death was early, like her husband’s, but Healer Clayhanger merely shrugged his shoulders.

“Some say that those whose lives have been extraordinarily busy knew deep down that they had less time to fit everything in.”

Bilbo buried her next to Bungo and made sure that the flowers on both graves thrived.


	7. Full Circle

Belladonna had been right. The smial had been built for a large family, not for one hobbit alone. Sometimes Bilbo wondered if his parents had stopped trying for more children when a faint uncertainty had entered their lives with Dís showing up again. 

As it was, Bilbo went on long walks all around the Shire and socialised with his neighbours. He continued to spoil his younger cousins and their children. 

If lifespan really was related to how busy a life was, Bilbo sometimes thought wryly, he was sure to beat his grandfather the old Took.

Still, he took pride in his respectability and did not truly wish to change anything.

 

He certainly did not need thirteen dwarves and a wizard tumbling into his home one after another. He did not need their help in emptying his pantry and he definitely did not want them breaking his dishes or using one of Belladonna’s doilies as a dishcloth! 

Dís’ general behaviour had been cause for much talk in Hobbiton and Bywater and wasn’t seen as entirely respectable.  
In comparison to the behaviour this lot showed, it was downright fit for the court of a king. And never mind that Gandalf said the one whose hair and height reminded Bilbo vaguely of Dís actually had the claim to a throne if the adventure they tried to recruit Bilbo to succeeded.

No, Bilbo Baggins did not want to go on an adventure, thank you very much. Especially not on one that included dwarves.

As Bilbo fell asleep, the dwarves sang a song about exile to the melody that Dís had sometimes hummed to Bilbo when he was little.

He stood in the empty kitchen the following morning, silence ringing in his ears. He thought of his mother running out on adventures. He thought of Dís and her sons, who were surely quite old by now. He thought of how Dís had sometimes mentioned that she wished her people didn’t have to live in exile. He thought of his father, telling him to do what his heart told him. He thought of all of them, constantly reminding him to risk an adventure when he came upon one.

And despite knowing better, Bilbo Baggins found himself running out of his front door, following dwarves on an adventure. 

 

Bilbo nearly choked when he found out what Thorin’s pony was called.

“Her name is Adamanta? That’s what my grandmother was called.”

Thorin shrugged. “My sister always called particularly nasty ponies Adamanta. I never asked her why. I suppose it became a habit in our family and now every pony that likes to snap and rear without reason gets that name.”

He smiled that rare smile of his and Bilbo was once again reminded why going on an adventure with dwarves was not a good idea at all. 

 

Apparently, Thorin did not regret taking a hobbit on an adventure quite as much as he sometimes pretended. 

Bilbo knew that this dwarf could very well be the end of him. Then again, there was already a dragon waiting at the end of the journey and surely death by dragon would pre-empt heartbreak by dwarf. Really, going on a slightly more personal adventure with this dwarf would not be too dangerous, all things considered.

Bilbo found his way into Thorin’s bedroll one night and never set up his own again after that. Trying to keep gasps and moans quiet in order not to disturb the company too much was very much preferable to the loneliness that had been his companion for far too long.

 

Bilbo did not follow exactly how much mead the dwarves drank during the first evening at Beorn’s hall. He probably did not want to know. 

The dwarves sang, danced and played whatever instruments had survived the journey so far. There was laughter, stories and even more mead.

At some point, the dwarves began proposing toasts.

“To my lovely wife, Thimla, may her glorious red beard grow ever longer!” Glóin bellowed.

“And to the green-eyed whore at the Black Axe tavern,” Nori toasted. 

“Hear, hear!” Bofur agreed, nearly spilling his mead in the process.

“This one’s to Drigur! He has never once opened the library of the Ered Luin late!” Ori proposed, but was booed loudly. 

“Oh, come on, that’s a boring one!” Dwalin said. “Who has a better toast?”

“To Dís, who is the best mother one could wish for!” Kíli yelled.

“Dís is your mother?”

“Yes, why do you ask?”

Everything suddenly clicked into place for Bilbo. These boys, who seemed so terribly young, were Dís’ sons, who were a good deal older than him. And with the similarity between Dís and Thorin, Bilbo should have realised that Thorin was Dís’ older brother much sooner....

Suddenly, the room began to spin and the floor sped up to meet him.

 

“Bilbo? Bilbo, are you alright?”

His field of vision was filled with dwarves. 

Bilbo nodded. “I think so.” He carefully sat up. 

“Did you have too much mead?”

“No, I was just not expecting you to be Dís’ sons,” Bilbo said looking at Fíli and Kíli.

“Do you know her?”

“Wait... no, that can’t be! You’re not her little button, are you?” Fíli asked in astonishment.

Bilbo laughed. “She told you about me?”

“Of course she did! She absolutely adored you!”

“Always told us what you had got up to every summer when she returned. She often wondered how you were doing when she stopped going to the Shire.”

“Wait, that means we’re pretty much brothers!” Kíli pulled Bilbo into his arms.

“No, that wouldn’t be right,” Fíli protested. “What with him and Uncle Thorin...”

Kíli pulled a face. “Oh, right. Well, an adopted brother then. Definitely family in some way or the other!”

Bilbo spent the remainder of the night toasting to all his newly found dwarven relatives. Thorin’s grin as he pulled Bilbo toward him was enough to confirm that this new realisation would not change anything between them.

Bilbo had never been as drunk as he was that night, neither on mead nor on happiness. 

 

Belladonna had spent three happy summers with her dwarf, as well as twenty stolen ones. Bilbo only had a few months with his.

 

The Shire was much the same. Children were born, vegetables grew, the sun shone, the flowers on his parents’ graves bloomed and people gossiped. 

Bilbo, on the other hand, had changed. He was no longer a respectable hobbit in the eyes of his neighbours. He found that did not matter nearly as much as he had thought it would. 

What did matter were the adventures he had had. He had outwitted trolls, met elves, and escaped goblins, orcs and wargs. He had broken thirteen dwarves out of prison in wine and apple barrels with the help of a magical ring. He had talked to a dragon and survived battle. He had loved and he had lost. 

He visited his cousins, finally being able to tell them about adventures he had had himself. He began writing his book and lived his life. Still, his mind kept turning back to his loss and the loss Belladonna had suffered.

 

And then, one evening early in the first summer after he had returned, just as Bilbo had taken a pie out of the oven, there was a knock on the door. 

On the doorstep was the familiar shape of a dwarf and for a moment, Bilbo thought he had dreamt the last thirty years. Then he realised that her hair was steel grey, far greyer than Thorin’s had been. 

“Auntie Dís?”

She pulled him into a hug.  
“My little button.”

After a long time, they pulled apart.

Dís looked at him before her eyes glanced past him. She hesitated for a moment.  
“Is... is Belna still around?”

Bilbo took a deep breath.  
“Why don’t you come inside? I still have some of that blackberry wine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A great big thank you to everybody who read this, commented or left kudos! You made my week! <3
> 
> The sequel will probably be up some time this week.


End file.
